


The Third Friday of June

by lalunaunita



Series: Stories From le Bar des Vosges [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, miraculous adults, miraculous universe adults, sweet romantic fluff, what do the adults do during akumas?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 05:24:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16033877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalunaunita/pseuds/lalunaunita
Summary: Mendeleiev and Caline are enjoying happy hour together and hoping to meet Jean when an akuma attacks.





	The Third Friday of June

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, @AuroraLynne 's fan art of this couple is a huge inspiration! 
> 
> I'm so very thankful to @livinglittlelie for her careful beta read. The smooth text and better cultural accuracy are all thanks to her attentive eye.

“...you should have seen the look on his face when I told him it was full of worms!” Mendeleiev chortled as she and Caline unwound over drinks after a long school day.

The summery evening had cooled to a pleasant temperature as the sun sank low in the sky. Friday nights at le Bar des Vosges tended to be more cheerful than raucous. The cozy atmosphere attracted locals in and around 21st arrondissement. Caline and Mendeleiev were Friday happy hour fixtures, rain or shine. They were seated prominently at their usual stools near the front door and the antique stained glass window.

Caline laughed into her wineglass and wiped a tear from her eye. “Mendeleiev, you never fail to surprise me. Surely it wasn’t, right?”

Mendeleiev nodded, satisfied with the reaction her tale had elicited. “You know me, Caline. I never lie to our students. Cajole, badger, harp, perhaps even wheedle, but not lie. It’s… well, it’s beneath my dignity, for one thing. For another, the truth is much more fun.”

Mendeleiev wiggled her eyebrows and tossed a devilish smile at the bartender. The woman’s hair was blonde this week. Caline could tell that Mendeleiev approved. Caline patted her own ginger locks and looked at her watch.

Mendeleiev observed Caline’s nervous motions. “So tell me more about this mystery man. You’re _sure_ he exists…?”

“Mendeleiev, don’t tease,” Caline replied, rather sharply.

Mendeleiev sat back, eyes wide, and Caline sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m nervous, that’s all. Jean’s called to talk and we’ve texted a few times, but he’s so busy - at all hours! Honestly, I never knew the Bourgeois family was so demanding.”

“But you _have_ seen him, haven’t you?” Mendeleiev asked, curious.

“Well… he took me out to coffee. Once. It was lovely.”

Mendeleiev opened her mouth at the radiant expression on Caline’s face, then closed it and just shook her head. No point in reiterating her doubts that this Jean could become anything more than a casual suitor; Caline clearly wasn’t in the mood to entertain discussion on the matter. Caline checked her watch again.

“It’s only six hours thirteen. He just got off of work; we’ll probably see him soon.” Smiling at the other patrons, Caline took a moment to wave at a few familiar faces before turning back to her friend.

“In that case, a refill for me, please,” Mendeleiev indicated her glass and the bartender came over with a broad smile.

The door of the bar slammed open and Caline looked up, her heart in her throat. She frowned when she recognized Nadja Chamack and her colleague Alec Cataldi. They were deep in conversation as they passed Caline and Mendeleiev; clearly shop talk held over from work at the TV station.

One half of Mendeleiev’s mouth drew up in a smirk. Caline returned the look with a rueful smile of her own.

“So, any other stories about your recalcitrant students?” she asked.

“I’d rather hear about your dream class,” Mendeleiev retorted. “Any akumatizations this week?”

Caline rolled her eyes. “No, I think just about all of them have been through it now. As have I. I wonder if you can only get akumatized once?”

Mendeleiev forcefully shook her head. “Not enough data. I wouldn’t make that assumption. Besides, Ivan Bruel’s experience would indicate otherwise.”

Caline tapped her chin.

“I suppose that’s true. I’d forgotten. He was a special case, though,” she added as an afterthought. “Ladybug didn’t get rid of all the stone people around town the first time.”

“Regardless, it’s a point of inquiry I have no desire to pursue,” Mendeleiev concluded with a flat wave of her hand.

“Same,” Caline agreed and took a sip of her wine.

A quiet bump rattled their glasses. Caline looked down in alarm, then up at a tiny stream of dust filtering down from the ceiling.

“Did you feel that?” she asked Mendeleiev, whose gaze followed hers upward.

Both women covered their wine glasses as a second vibrating jolt shook loose more dust. Akuma sirens started whining in the distance. The noise of the bar quieted, then picked back up with a few shrill questions bouncing over the bed of conversation.

Mendeleiev exhaled a muttered string of curses. “Hawkmoth _would_ have the audacity to interrupt my Friday night wine time.”

“Well, they always tell us to stay off the streets, so I’m not leaving,” Caline replied, tossing back the last of her glass.

The door to the bar opened on a quiet creak, letting in a tall, flustered man in a plum colored button-down and tailored slacks. Jean shut the door quickly and pressed his back to it, catching his breath.

“Oh! Jean!” Caline’s voice sounded unnaturally high in her ears as her hand fluttered above her head in greeting.

Jean gulped, but managed a smile as he caught Caline’s eye. The smile warmed as he stepped away from the door and joined the two women at the bar. Jean took Caline’s hands in his own. She noticed that they trembled slightly as the pair traded kisses on either cheek.

“Caline, how are you?” he murmured, his voice a low tenor.

Caline stared up into his dark eyes, her response forgotten on her lips. Had it really only been two weeks since she’d seen him? It seemed much longer. His hair was shorter; he’d gotten it cut. Mendeleiev cleared her throat and Caline started.

“Ah, Jean, let me introduce you to my colleague, Ms. Mendeleiev,” she said, pulling a hand free and indicating her friend.

“Just Mendeleiev, if you please,” the woman said with an uncharacteristically sincere smile.

“Lovely to meet yo-”

A loud crack that shook the windows interrupted their introductions. Jean winced slightly, then chuckled.

“It’s a nasty akuma this time. Ladybug and Chat Noir are already on the scene. I had to run ‘round the corner to escape the crossfire,” he explained, placing his elbows on the bar and ordering a drink.

Caline covered her mouth with one hand, but Mendeleiev’s eyes sparkled.

“A close one, eh?” she queried as the bartender poured a glass of red wine for Jean.

“A bit. The akuma didn’t see me, though. I was nearly here and already under the arches. You look...very nice, Caline,” he finished, turning back to her.

Bewildered, Caline blushed all the way to her collarbone. “Thank you. You as well.”

To her credit, Mendeleiev did not roll her eyes as she looked away to give the lovebirds a moment. There were several ominous rumbles outside as Jean took Caline’s hands again.

“I meant to call yesterday and-”

“I know, I got your text.” Caline shook her head. “Did she really-”

The stained-glass window at the front of le Bar des Vosges crashed inward, spewing glass all over the floor. Mendeleiev yelled and threw one arm over her face. Shards skated toward the feet of shocked patrons.

For a moment, the bar was completely silent. Then a figure in garish shades of green and pink with motorcycles for legs revved up and through the broken bar window, screeching unintelligibly. Everyone who wasn’t seated backed up, leaving the narrow center of the old bar clear. Jean stepped laterally, in front of Caline, but stilled when the akuma’s eyes flicked over them.

The smell of exhaust and the turbulent roar of engines polluted the small space quickly. Caline covered her nose and mouth, but it didn’t help. She and her companions could hear a voice from outside, despite the cacophony.

“I’m getting _wheelie_ , _wheelie_ tired of chasing you, Vicious Cycle,” Chat Noir admonished, dropping in neatly through the window. Glass crunched under his steel-pawed boots as he brandished his baton.

Ladybug landed next to him. The bar hardly afforded her enough room to whirl her yo-yo. Caline was close enough to see the pink crackle of its magic.

“We’ve got to get out of here. Too many civilians,” she murmured to Chat Noir.

His ears flicked in acknowledgement. Fortunately, the akuma’s only aim was to avoid pursuit. Vicious Cycle took off at breakneck speed across the ancient floor beams toward the back exit, tires squealing offensively.

“Thank goodness,” Chat Noir sighed. “I think I may be too young to _handlebars_ anyway.”

Ladybug made an exasperated noise and grabbed Chat Noir by the upper arm, dragging him after her. He waved awkwardly at at the bar as they passed.

“Hi, Ms. Mendeleiev, Ms. Bustier.”

The women stared at him, bug eyed. The whole bar waited in silence until they heard the slam of the back door. Immediately, everyone started chattering.

“I got it all!” Nadja Chamack crowed from a booth near the back. She triumphantly waved a cell phone above her head. “Take _that_ , Ladyblog!”

The blonde bartender came around with a broom and dustpan, but Mendeleiev placed a hand on her arm. “Don’t bother. Just wait for the creepy magic ladybug swarm to swoop through. You deserve a few minutes’ break.”

The woman grinned and sat on a barstool next to Mendeleiev, leaning back on her elbows to survey the damage and converse. As her friend was otherwise occupied, Caline turned back to Jean. He tilted her chin up with a fingertip.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied, breathless. She couldn’t tell if it was the air pollution or Jean’s fingers at her chin. “Are you?”

“Right as rain,” he confirmed, staring deeply into Caline’s eyes.

On impulse, Caline straightened up just as Jean’s head dipped down. Their foreheads met with a blunt smack. Pain shot through Caline’s head; she scrunched her eyes closed as Jean drew back and rubbed a red spot between his brows.

“Ow,” they said, then Jean’s mustache twitched and they both laughed.

“May I?” asked Caline, standing.

Jean dropped his hand and Caline smoothed hesitant fingertips over his eyebrows. She could see the tight muscles of his face relax as she did so. Her knuckles curled and the backs of her fingers slid down to rest gently against Jean’s cheekbones. He reached up and pressed her palm to his cheek, closing his enchanting eyes.

A familiar flickering light flowed through the bar, warm and pink as sunset. Jean blinked, startled, but Caline pulled him down into a kiss under the cover of magic ladybugs. His breath mingled with hers, sweet, as he exhaled in surprise. When he brought his arms around her, Caline’s other hand went to the nape of his neck. She combed her fingers through the soft hair there. She tilted her head and pressed even closer. Her heart jackhammered against her ribs as Jean moved his lips shyly against hers.

As the warmth and light around them receded, Jean reluctantly released her. The window had reverted to its former splendor; there were no tire marks on the old, scratched floor. Jean leaned against the bar top as if dazed.

“Wha - why, Caline, I-”

She placed a finger on his soft lips and smiled. “Shhh, Jean. You’re safe with me.”

Jean recovered quickly; his eyebrow quirked and the corners of his mouth drew up in a tiny smile. “I’m not sure ‘safe’ is the word I would choose.”


End file.
